


Long Train Runnin'

by OhMyGodspeed



Series: Pie is Home. People Always Come Home. [2]
Category: Pushing Daisies, Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, Closeted Dean Winchester, Crossover, Dean Winchester Loves Pie, Dean Winchester Loves The Impala, Dean Winchester in Denial About Sexuality, Emerson "I'm Getting Too Old For This Shit" Cod, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Guns, Hunt, Hunters & Hunting, Investigation, M/M, Murder, OTP Fells, On a train, POV Dean Winchester, Pie, Resurrection, Slow Burn, The Pie Hole, Werewolf, Werewolf Death, Werewolf Hunters, Where is Castiel, castiel - Freeform, lots of pie, piechester, post pushing daisies, silver bullets, werewolf attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 19:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18597832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhMyGodspeed/pseuds/OhMyGodspeed
Summary: When Emerson comes to Ned with a new case, Dean realizes that the killer they're looking for might not be human."For now, his attention needed to be on Tennessee Davis from Davis, Tennessee, the poor girl that had been slashed to death on the way to her first real gig. This could have been her big break, Dean thought. That is, if she was as good at singing and playing guitar as she was beautiful. But as he gazed up from the tag at Tennessee’s feet and looked upon her now, he felt that her striking good looks were completely diminished by the fact that she was, in fact, dead. Her body had been sliced up pretty good. Marks covered her face and neck, and even though her body was mostly obscured by a great white sheet it was easy to assume what gory nightmare lied just beneath. But that fact didn’t seem to stop Ned from getting in close, checking his watch with an apprehensive huff."





	Long Train Runnin'

**Author's Note:**

> Hooray, the second installment of my Piechester "Pie is Home" verse is finally finished! Thank you to my sweet beta reader Arrow for helping me out on this one. It really is a long time coming. It's already been a month!
> 
> You can find updates on me and my writing [here](https://twitter.com/OhMyGodspeed).
> 
> Please enjoy!

Dean wiped the sweat from his brow as he knelt down, tools in hand, placing himself before Ned’s storage room so that he was eye level with the lock. Squinting in the early morning sun, the hunter assessed the damage to the door, Ned hovering behind him like a concerned parent. It turned out that Sam had done more damage than expected. Just enough to warrant a replacement lock. So, new lock in hand, Dean set about switching the old one out, warped by Sam’s earlier pie pan attack. Maybe they should get him a replacement tin to apologize, Dean thought as he continued to work diligently on locking Ned’s secrets away once again.

The hunter knew what it was like to have secrets you didn’t want broadcast to the public. Hell, he had loads of them, most involving angels and demons and apocalypses no one even knew about. Helping Ned with his was a no brainer in Dean’s mind, and the process of it put his weary mind at ease. Besides, he’d needed to return Ned’s shirt.

As a favor to Dean, Sam had neatly folded the shirt for him so that he could return it to Ned in the nicest shape possible, though not without teasing him mercilessly for it. There was no washing machine for them to use at the motel and they didn’t know the city well enough to find a laundromat between leaving the Pie Hole late the night before and that morning, so Dean had settled for making sure the shirt was folded properly. Dean was certain it still smelled like him, though. That salt of the earth smell that was so characteristically _Dean_ , replacing the cinnamon-like scent that seemed to be so characteristically _Ned_.

Letting out a satisfied huff as the new lock finally clicked into place, Dean stood and cracked his knuckles. All in a day’s work. But as he turned to find Ned staring directly at him, the hunter blushed. So did Ned.

“Thanks, Dean. I, uh… really appreciate it. Do you want some pie? I want some pie. Well, not for _me_ to eat, but… you know.” Watching as the pie maker immediately scurried away, Dean sighed. He was glad their relationship wasn’t nearly as antagonistic as it could’ve been considering how they’d met, but this awkwardly uncomfortable back and forth exchange wasn’t much better. Dean wanted to get to know Ned. He couldn’t do that if every little conversation they had resulted in Ned scuttling away as fast as he could.

Maybe Ned just didn’t want to get to know Dean like he wanted to get to know Ned. But then again, why would it matter? The two of them were perfect strangers, aside from the fact that they both knew the truth about the other’s profession. Actually, Dean figured he knew Ned pretty well, considering the fact that bringing back the dead isn’t exactly something you tell people about. Neither was monster hunting. The two of them really were more alike than Dean would care to admit.

Following Ned’s hurried path out to one of the booths, Dean made his way to Ned’s side as the pie maker waved him over. He slid in beside him, doing his best not to get too close. Ned gave off a vibe that he didn’t like being touched. A strong one, at that, and Dean intended to respect his boundaries. After all, if he woke the dead with a touch, what did a touch like that do to the living? Dean was suddenly nervous to find out, but curious all the same.

As he slid in beside the pie maker, Dean’s focus was drawn by the man sitting across from them. He was tall. Not as tall as Ned, though Dean had serious doubts that anyone really was, but he was tall enough even sitting down that their knees knocked together underneath the table. Dean was positive that this was another man who would dwarf him in size. His skin was dark and his bald head shined, and as they sat there he looked as though he was trying to flag down a waitress. An action that ultimately failed and left him sitting there, pieless.

“So _this_ is the guy that you wouldn’t shut up about? Way you described him I thought he’d be… prettier.” Ned reached across the table to slap the man’s arm, which only elicited a dark chuckle from him. “It’s a pleasure. The name’s Emerson Cod, private investigator.”

“Dean Winchester, monster hunter.” Reaching out, Dean shook Emerson’s hand. The P.I. had a strong grip, and the enthusiastic handshake would have thrown him off balance were the two of them standing up.

“Not going with Mulder this time?” Ned teased, the smile on his face growing less awkward the friendlier the conversation became. It probably helped they had Emerson there as a buffer, his own smile just as intoxicating as the liquor Emerson sipped from his flask. Dean liked the way this guy rolled. He seemed like the same type of no nonsense, smart talking guy that Dean liked to think he was himself, though the hunter didn’t want to admit that even from their short interaction it seemed like Emerson was leagues better at it. Dean blamed the age difference.

“Hey, I’m just lucky Dean’s a more attractive name than _Fox_. Fox sounds like the kinda asshole that buys designer bow ties and complains about the meatpacking industry. But Dean? _Dean’s_ the kinda guy you can get a drink with. Who keeps his business to himself. Now I don’t know about you, but I think Dean sounds like a pretty cool guy.” As he spoke, Dean stretched his arms back and put on a cocky grin. His gaze shifted between Emerson and Ned before it finally landed on Ned, as if to gauge his reaction, but he only had the opportunity to catalog that soft smile before Emerson laughed right at him.

“We get it. We don’t need your dating profile, _loverboy_.” Oh, now that made Dean blush.

“It's not my—”

“Sure it was. You were one step away from telling us you like to have fun and enjoy long walks on the beach. Thanks, but I’d save it for someone who cares.”

“Say someone did want to hear it…” Ned’s voice was so soft Dean thought that the sound had been a figment of his imagination, but it was insistent all the same. “It's not like he has to stop talking about it just because he might be making you uncomfortable.” Was Ned defending him, or hitting on him? Or, dare he hope, both?

“Woah, okay, he’s not making me uncomfortable. You loverboys can swing any which way. _I don’t care_. Just do me a favor and leave me out of it, will ya? I don’t need to picture either of you two getting busy with anybody.” At that, Ned let out a sigh and Dean was rendered silent. The words _I don’t swing that way_ danced across Dean’s lips, but now? He didn’t have the heart to say them. He didn’t want to give Ned the wrong idea—but why was he even thinking about Ned in the first place? Surely he didn't like him in that way. He couldn’t… right? “Now that we’ve got that outta the way, we’ve got another case,” Emerson continued quickly, his careless gaze landing on Ned and Ned alone, as if he were leaving Dean out entirely. Dean didn’t like being left out, especially not on a case.

“Case? What kinda case?” Dean asked, his interest already piqued.

“None of your goddamn business, that’s what kind.” Dean was liking Emerson less and less the longer their interaction went on.

“Wait—Emerson, he knows.” Ned bit his lip as he spoke, looking down to the table with an embarrassed look on his face.

“You told someone else? _Pipsqueak_ still doesn’t even know, and it’s been _ten goddamn years!”_

“More like he and his brother saw the security camera footage from the morgue and decided to come and confront me about it. At night. And Sam broke my door. And probably scarred me for life. But hey, Dean’s a pretty cool guy. Likes pie just as much as me, which I didn’t think was possible, but lo and behold he shows up with his… love of pies and his bottomless stomach.” As Ned continued to ramble, Dean couldn’t help but smile to himself, looking away as if to hide it. The hunter was flattered, whether that was Ned’s intention or not.

“That place’s got security cameras?” Emerson asked, a nervous look on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Looks like I got some explaining to do to the coroner.”

“He probably already knows and just didn’t say anything,” Dean said with a shrug as Olive brought a sweet-smelling pie to the table. He served himself up a hearty helping and shoveled a good amount onto his tongue before continuing, speaking straight through the food in his mouth. “Sounds to me like you’ve got a real friend there.” Emerson sat there for a moment, dazed and making a disgusted face at Dean. But Dean didn’t care. That pie was delicious, and he wasn’t going to stop enjoying it for anyone, least of all Emerson.

“So, what’s our case, Emerson?” Ned asked, pulling Emerson’s attention away from Dean’s _intense_ enjoyment of Ned’s culinary creation, and at that, Emerson smiled. Grabbing a handful of paperwork and photographs from his bag, Emerson slammed his case files onto the table.

“I’m glad you asked,” he began, sifting through the pile and pulling out the photograph of a young woman. Dark curls fell into her face as she smiled brightly, playing the guitar in a moment dedicated to film. “Tennessee Davis. Poor girl was found slashed to pieces in the back of a private train car. Train’s stopped here in town, but we gotta move quick if we wanna see the crime scene. It won’t be here long. A day, tops.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Dean cut in, wiping off his face and moving to stand. Ned quickly followed suit, leaving Emerson alone in the booth.

“I don’t remember inviting you.” Emerson’s voice was cold as he sat there looking Dean directly in the eyes as he served himself up his own slice of pie.

“Come on, Emerson. Dean’s a kind of P. I. too. The worst he could do is offer us some help,” Ned said, fidgeting with his hands behind his back as he held Emerson’s gaze. “Now c’mon. You said it yourself, we don’t have much time.

“Fine, but I don’t want you two making goo-goo eyes at each other the whole goddamn time. You got me?” Dean moved to object, but Ned stopped him, pressing a hand to Dean’s chest and nodding his head. “Good. Now that we’ve got that settled, let’s hit the morgue.”

Finally rising from his seat, Emerson draped his long coat over his shoulders and made his way out to the car, expecting Dean and Ned to follow and leaving his unfinished pie behind.

***

The ride to the morgue had been more than a little tense for Dean. It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust Ned’s driving skills. He was certain he was a perfectly capable driver. It was just that _he_ wasn’t driving. This wasn’t Baby, this was some other man’s car. One that had him on the other side of an unnerving pane of glass.

“Hey, uh… poindexter?” Dean asked as he knocked on the glass, desperately searching for something, anything to distract himself. “Why the glass?” The hunter hadn’t expected the dark expression that crossed Ned’s face in response. It was something sad. Something fragile. Something broken-hearted.

Something Dean never wanted to see again.

“It’s a long story,” was all Ned said in response, eyes now wholly and entirely focused on the road ahead of them as they pulled into the parking lot. Without another word, Ned parked the car and stepped outside, shoving his hands in his pockets. He wore his emotions on his sleeve, and all Dean could think as he followed behind Ned was that he’d fucked up. Royally too, or else Ned would never have been so upset. He didn’t seem like the sort of person to take offense to every little thing someone said.

Without warning, Emerson clapped a hand on Dean’s back. It would have been reassuring if it hadn’t come as such a shock, and it left Dean whirling around to see what was the matter.

“Ned’s been through a lot since I’ve known him. There’s more to his story than you might think. Just… go easy on the poor kid, okay?” At that, Emerson drew his hand away and followed Ned into the morgue, Dean drawing close behind. What all had happened to Ned that put him so on edge? But Dean didn’t give himself much time to ruminate on the thought. He had a case to work. He could worry about Ned and his past later.

For now, his attention needed to be on Tennessee Davis from Davis, Tennessee, the poor girl that had been slashed to death on the way to her first real gig. This could have been her big break, Dean thought. That is, if she was as good at singing and playing guitar as she was beautiful. But as he gazed up from the tag at Tennessee’s feet and looked upon her now, he felt that her striking good looks were completely diminished by the fact that she was, in fact, dead. Her body had been sliced up pretty good. Marks covered her face and neck, and even though her body was mostly obscured by a great white sheet it was easy to assume what gory nightmare lied just beneath. But that fact didn’t seem to stop Ned from getting in close, checking his watch with an apprehensive huff.

“Here goes nothing,” Ned said, squeezing his eyes closed for just a moment before setting his watch and pressing his middle and forefingers to Tennessee’s forehead. She sat up with a shot, screaming as the white sheet fell down ever so slightly, revealing just a few more of the gaping wounds that carved deep into her chest.

Those didn’t look like just any old knife wounds. They looked like _claw marks._

Knowing that Ned couldn’t rush in to calm her, Dean swooped in, pressing a hand to Tennessee’s shoulder. Time was precious. They only had a minute to get the information out of her, but try as Dean might, nothing could calm the girl down. She was sobbing, still terrified from the sequence of events she’d lived through and inevitably died from. Tennessee just kept repeating werewolf. _Werewolf._ And just before her minute was up, Ned reached in and pressed his fingers to her forehead once again, silencing her and sending Tennessee back to the afterlife from whence she came.

“I’ve been doing this ten years, and I ain’t never seen shit like this.” Emerson said, a disturbed look on his face as he shook his head. “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

“Werewolf? What do you think she meant, werewolf? She can’t have meant, like, a real werewolf… right? I mean, those can’t possibly exist.” Ned furrowed his thick brows together as he looked to Dean for guidance. It was a soft confused look, causing Dean’s more protective instinct to kick in.

“You guys are gonna wanna leave this one to Sam and me,” Dean began, looking over the body with a stony look in his eyes. He was in hunter mode now, his instincts dialed up to eleven as he prepared himself for the worst. And now that there were civilians involved? It was Dean’s duty to keep Emerson and Ned safe.

“Like hell we are. I don’t know about you, but I have a reward with my name on it,” Emerson growled, pulling Dean back away from the body to look him in the eyes.

“Hate to tell you, but there’s not gonna _be_ a reward. Your killer’s a freaking monster.” Hearing that gave Emerson pause, as if he were actually considering the possibility that this girl was mauled to death by a werewolf.

“That’s impossible. Werewolves aren’t real.”

“I mean— _I’m_ real. Is it really so far-fetched that werewolves might be too?” Ned asked, cutting in to try and help Dean make his point. Emerson simply grumbled in response, nodding to Dean as if to tell him to go on. So he did.

“This case’s got all the signs of it being a werewolf attack,” Dean began, his gaze looking over the poor girl spread out on the table before him. “Deep claw marks, defensive wounds and bites on her arms…” Pulling the sheet down ever so slightly, Dean exposed her chest, which had been brutally torn open. “Her heart’s even missing.” Moving quickly when he saw Ned looking a little green, Dean covered Tennessee up once again.

“And what are we supposed to do about this supposed werewolf attack?” Emerson asked, crossing his arms and failing to hide the sarcasm in his tone.

“We track the werewolf down and then we either pump it full of silver or decapitate it. Whichever’s easier.” Dean’s voice was serious as sin as he stared the two of them down, hands white knuckling on the cold metal examination table. Pulling his phone from his pocket, Dean shot Sam a text, telling him to meet them at the train station with their suits and fake FBI badges. This murder investigation definitely called for snooping around a crime scene, and as much as it pained him to know that someone else was driving his car around, Dean knew that he was going to need Sam’s help if he was going to hunt this thing down quickly and efficiently. Especially since he figured Emerson and Ned would insist on coming with them.

“We’re… we’re going to kill it?” Ned asked, a vulnerable look in his eyes as he looked back and forth between Dean and Emerson. He really was that innocent, wasn’t he?

“There’s no other way. If we don’t kill it, this thing’s just gonna keep eating more and more people. You understand that, right?” Ned simply nodded in response, his eyes falling to stare down at his Chuck Taylor converse shoes.

“You two are talking crazy. I still won’t believe it ‘til I see it,” Emerson said, finally turning to leave. “We’re going there. _Now_. If anything, maybe I’ll talk some sense into you two idiots on the way to my crime scene.” Watching as Emerson marched outside, Dean and Ned had no choice but to follow him out to the car.

***

“Agents Addams and Addams, no relation. We’re here to take a look at the crime scene,” Dean said, pointing to his brother and flipping open his fraudulent FBI badge to show the cop on scene that he most likely did, in fact, belong there. He’d slipped his suit on in the back of the impala once Sam had arrived at the train station, and he was pretty sure he’d caught Ned sneaking a peek through the backseat window. He couldn’t prove it, though. The thought of it made Dean blush yet again as the cop let them onto the train, stopping Ned and Emerson at the door. “They’re with us.”

Emerson glared at the cop as both he and Ned were finally granted entrance, joining Sam and Dean in their scan of the area. The cop stepped outside, allowing them to continue as they pleased in the confined space of the train’s interior. Though, Dean did notice that Ned was keeping his distance from Sam, sticking close to the walls or to Dean. Whichever happened to be furthest from Sam at the time. Dean found himself leaning in, pressing a comforting pat to Ned’s back before really diving into the crime scene.

There wasn’t really much there to see. Just a puddle of dried blood where Tennessee had bled out on the carpet, imprinting the train car with the memory of her death. A chill was in the air, though not the sort of chill Dean had come to expect from a spirit. It was just that eerie chill, that feeling that something was about to go wrong. And as Dean slipped into thinking about what that might mean, Sam pulled him over to the side.

“Dean, take a look at this.” Pulling him by the sleeve, Sam brought Dean to a dried smudge of blood on the wall. It was splashed over a set of deep claw marks, which tore the wallpaper straight right off the train’s metal foundation. “The blood and claw marks lead all the way to the engine room. Do you think… the werewolf might still be here?” A bolt of adrenaline shot through Dean’s body, pooling in his feet and stirring him to action. Where was Ned? Emerson? He had to get them off this train, and he had to do it now.

Before Dean had the chance to run off, to make his way back to the private passenger car where Tennessee has passed away, the train lurched. The gears began to grind, causing a loud, metallic whine to permeate the air, and growling could be heard from the engine room. The train was moving, and there was only one thing that could have set it off. Had the sun set already? Dean cocked his gun, guard up higher than it had been in ages as he motioned for Sam to get back and beside him. With both of their guns raised they cautiously moved forward, stepping lightly and hoping that the creature they sought wouldn’t hear them coming.

Turning the corner into the engine room, a shudder ran through Dean’s body as the lights flickered and went out. The werewolf was definitely in there. Smart, too, and as Dean searched for any sign of movement in the darkness he caught a shadow flickering in the corner of his eye. Dean immediately turned and shot at the offending shadow, but his aim was thrown off as the train went over a bump in the tracks, causing the bullet to bury itself in the wall on the opposite side of the train car.

Using the darkness to it’s advantage, the werewolf jumped down from its hiding place, overtaking Dean in the process. As the creature came upon him and stepped out into the light, stinking breath growling in Dean’s face, the hunter could see its features plain as day. Gnarled, blood stained teeth, wild eyes, knife-like claws, if Dean hadn’t been a seasoned professional, he would’ve been frozen in place by fear. But instead of letting fear and revulsion root him in place, Dean backed away, narrowly dodging as the werewolf swiped at his face. Both Sam and Dean let off a couple more rounds, but none of the shots that hit pierced the creature’s heart. When Sam reached into his pocket to reload his weapon, the werewolf gained ground on them, lunging at Sam’s chest.

“Get back!” Dean cried, throwing himself between his brother and the werewolf. And as he did, the creature raked its claws across Dean’s shoulder, tearing through his suit jacket and his skin as if it were no thicker than tissue paper before finally thrusting him back against the wall in the hallway. Dean crumpled, the wind knocked out of him from the force of the blow, and his gun clattered a foot or two down the hall. Vision hazy as he wheezed for breath, Dean watched as the werewolf did the same to Sam, but not before doing its best to bite him. The younger hunter shoved his empty gun in the creature’s mouth, giving Sam a chance to scurry away before the werewolf spit it out and attacked again. Likely to warn the others. Tell them to hide.

When the werewolf did decide it was time to attack, it focused its carnal rage solely on Dean. It stalked closer, as if it were enjoying the feeble state that Dean was in as he sat there, slumped against the wall and fighting to regulate his breathing. Giving the hunter a long sniff, Dean could have sworn he heard the creature laughing at him, a throaty growl interrupted by a brief period of amusement, but as the werewolf finally lunged at Dean, it was stopped in its tracks by the firing of a silver bullet. It hit the werewolf square in the chest, piercing its heart and leaving it there, dead and bleeding out on the floor of the train.

Whirling around to see who had fired the bullet, Dean had expected to see Sam standing there and holding his gun. But he wasn’t. It wasn’t Sam who had fired the bullet, but Ned. The pie maker stood there shaking, Dean’s gun still trained on the werewolf’s body, as if he expected it to get back up and run at them yet again. He was shaken up, blue eyes filled with terror. Dean slowly rose to his feet, making his way over to Ned and placing one hand on the top of the gun to lower it down to Ned’s side and the other over his stinging shoulder wound to try and staunch the bleeding.

“It’s okay. It’s dead,” Dean reassured Ned, who despite that knowledge was still shaking.

“I’ve—I’ve never killed someone before. Well, I mean, I’ve never killed something or someone who wasn’t already dead. Using my powers is different. Like—like I’m a catalyst for life, even just for a little while. I couldn’t just let him kill you, but… but…” Ned’s voice wobbled as he spoke, tears filling his eyes as Dean took the gun from his hands and sheathed it in the waistband of his pants. “I watched the _light_ leave his eyes, Dean.” It was then that Ned became so overwhelmed that the tears did fall, causing Ned to hide his face in his hands. The sight wounded Dean more than any werewolf attack ever could, and when the weight on his heart grew to be too much Dean reached out and wrapped his arms around Ned, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder. That could always be dealt with later.

Ned’s eyes widened as Dean pulled the taller pie maker close, rubbing his back to try and help him calm down. Dean knew it couldn’t be easy. When he killed a monster for the first time, Dean threw up right there in the forest. He was only sixteen at the time, out on a hunt with his father. Even now, the sight of a wendigo burning to death still made his stomach churn, and he was sometimes haunted by memories of that _smell._ He hoped to save Ned from that sort of trauma.

As Dean continued to hug him and rub his back, the floodgates in Ned’s eyes truly opened up. Dean could feel Ned’s entire body sob as he buried his face into the hunter’s good shoulder, leaning on him for support. The pie maker clutched Dean close, clinging onto him for dear life as he cleared himself of the upsetting shock of ending another intelligent creature’s life. As Dean continued to comfort him, being a rock for the pie maker to cling to, he began to run his fingers through Ned’s hair. It was something his mother had always done for him as a child, and it did wonders to calm him down, no matter how upset he’d been.

So much for no chick-flick moments.  
Soon Ned had calmed down enough to pull away from Dean, wiping his nose on his sleeve. Dean reached out and caught a few of the tears as they fell from Ned’s eyes, which caused the sweet pie maker to smile, his cheeks still rosy from crying. His embarrassed gaze then fell to his shoes once again, that soft smile staying as if it were etched onto his cheeks. Dean thought is was a cute smile.

“An emotional heimlich,” Ned muttered to himself with a sigh, his mind seemingly elsewhere for a few moments before he met Dean’s gaze. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m just happy I could, uh… help,” Dean said with an awkward chuckle as he rubbed the back of his neck, smiling back at Ned. He purposely stood between Ned and the werewolf, blocking the pie maker’s view so that he wouldn’t have to lay eyes on it again. “Why don’t you grab Sam and go take it easy with Emerson? Sam and I can get the train stopped and the situation… taken care of. Sound good?” Ned simply nodded in response, scuttling off to grab Sam, but not without lingering for a moment, looking back to Dean one last time.

Now came the _fun_ part. Disposing of the body.


End file.
